King of Kong
by MaffyUndead
Summary: The continuation of The Evangelist- Gorillaz and their reluctant young companion made it to Kong Studios. Complications arise in every corridor- zombies, spores, R.O.U.F.'s.- you name it. Rated T for drugs and stuff.
1. High on Nutmeg

**Part 2! Critique, good or bad, is welcome- no, required. Give me reviews!**

The putrid air wafting in from the landfill below met my nostrils like a punch in the face. You'd think I'd be used to it after a month or two, but even the Gorillaz themselves have yet to accept it.

I'd lost track of time since the band had arrived in London, and I'd since began to slowly fade from everyone's memories—not that I don't want that to happen. Not a single day goes by that Murdoc's previous words to me fail to echo through my mind. _"_…_right now you're in the hospital in a coma…"_

Could that really be the truth?

Suddenly the dim sun shined through relentless grey clouds and reflected off of a piece of metal, catching my eye. I leaned over the rotting balcony for a closer inspection, careful not to inhale or fall into the cesspool of trash. It appeared to be an arm made of a slightly rusted metal, with chunks of dirtied rubber hanging off haphazardly.

"There's no way it's… _It_," I assured myself. With a jolt, the arm suddenly shot straight up towards the sky, as if grasping the stinking air and holding onto it. Shocked, I jumped back and stumbled in through the glass door and into the kitchen. The smell emitting from the fridge and various cupboards meshed together with the landfill's stink. I quietly shut the see-through door.

After arriving at the charred-but-livable Kong Studios—or rather, its ruins- Murdoc had explained that no one was to know the band's current residing. Damon Albarn was helping to cover them by tossing an opera out into the fan's open mouths. Cramming distractions down people's throats couldn't keep them busy chewing for long, though.

I rummaged through the cupboards, careful to not get a nasty bite from a rat or touch any of the decaying foodstuffs. Nearly everything in the kitchen was coated with deadly spores, and releasing them meant headaches and hospitalization. Then again, supposedly my unconscious body lay in a hospital bed somewhere anyway… so if I went to the hospital in my mind, that would mean… _Inception. _

Finally I found what I was looking for. I clutched a bottle of nutmeg in my sweating hand. I'd devised a plan to wake my body up so I could escape the dangerous clutches of life in Kong. Injury obviously couldn't do the trick, as I bared scars and bullet holes from Plastic Beach and yet still walked about in an imaginary world. But perhaps downing a bottle on nutmeg would help.

I unscrewed the cap and tapped the bottle until the brown powder filled it. For a moment I stood gathering my courage and having second thoughts, but after a minute I forgot them and dumped the spice straight down my gullet. My body's reflexes reacted quickly and I began retching, but I wasn't about to lose the fight. After a good five minutes, the deed was done. Now my fate rested in the hands of time.

A creak behind me caught my attention and I whirled around, expecting to face a zombie or R.O.U.S. Instead, dark eyes stared back into mine.

"2…D… hi," I stammered shyly. I hadn't had conversation with another human being in weeks.

"'Ello, Maf! Wot're you doin' eating nutmeg?" he replied cheerfully.

"Um… nothing, really, I mean I just felt like it. I'm, um, testing something."

"Testin'?" The singer looked confused.

"Yes, I'm trying to see if I'll—you know what, never mind. I just like nutmeg," I lied. He would think I was crazy if I said I downed a disgusting amount of the spice for a cheap high.

"Wull okay then." 2D glanced at the fridge, looking hungry, but remembered that opening it was suicidal. "I fink I'll 'ave to order again."

The man disappeared into the corridors once again. I stood in the middle of the kitchen looking dumb for a couple of minutes, wondering what to do next, since the hallucinations wouldn't kick in for a couple of hours. Finally I made up my mind and entered the same corridors 2D had before. After averting the little bike and Noodle's room, I stepped into a lobby. A gruesome scene of blood met me, but I wasn't fazed. I'd been in the room dozens of times before.

I entered the lift and pressed a random button, since they weren't labeled, and ended up in another lobby of sorts. My head began pounding. The room was frigid as an entire wall was missing and dreary rain poured in through the gaping hole. I turned around with a sigh and faced yet another frightening corridor, hoping it was the one connected to the car park.

The sound of 'Murdoc is God' wafted in from the dirty door on the far left. I never needed to worry about being caught in the car park since it was impossible to hear my footsteps. I swung the door open with ease and stepped out into the open, crossing my fingers the entire time with the hope that the 'King of Kong' didn't have any 'friends' over.

I started on my way to the labyrinth of totaled cars and smashed metal, but stopped dead when I heard my name. Or rather, my alias.

"Maf! Maffy! 'Ey!"

To my left was 2D, calling me over—no, blowing my cover, and beside him stood the King himself, along with a random trashy-looking lady. Reluctantly I joined them.

Murdoc eyed me with a snicker, as if he knew something. "Nutmeg, ey?" he laughed.

So that's what's so damn funny.

I felt my face get hot. I wasn't enjoying the attention. The red-head with Murdoc giggled too, and patted me on the head.

"What?" I asked, finally snapping.

2D didn't seem to know either.

Murdoc simply handed me a lighted fag and sent me on my way, as if he was better than me. I began to protest, but instead decided to continue into the maze of cars.

I found a comfortable spot between two rusted racecars with an unidentifiable car smashed over them like a roof. I realized I still held the cigarette between my fingers and decided to smoke it. It was free, after all. I took a drag.

When I saw Murdoc, he looked different. It was strange. Not only was his face speckled with five o'clock shadow, but he'd returned to his shirtless ways. It was almost as if I'd time traveled back to Phase Two.

I took another drag. My head was still pounding, but my stomach had also begun to ache. What would happen if I really did return to reality?

All I knew for sure was… maybe I'd miss the freedom of Gorillaz after all.


	2. Trippin on a Hole in a Rollinpaper Heart

**Too much? Give me a review. Also, kudos to anyone who gets the title.**

For the past 15 minutes, I'd been staring at the wall in front of me.

It had definitely moved.

I stood up hastily, forgetting about the metal roof over me. Rubbing the top of my head, I ventured out of my hiding spot and towards the wall. I had to touch it. Two feet from my grasp, though, a scream came from behind me, and I whisked around to investigate. Nothing was there, from what I could see.

I resumed my epic journey to the shape-shifting wall, until another scream rang out from the pile of cars. Once again I turned around, and this time there stood a perfectly white skeleton.

"Is… is that Bonesy?" I asked aloud, forgetting no one could hear.

The figure beckoned me to follow as it leapt nimbly from each crushed car to car. I scrambled over the protruding metal, but simply wasn't as fast. My hands and knees bled from every square inch as I hurried toward the skeleton, but soon he disappeared from view.

"Darn it!" I spat. I wiped my bloody hands onto my clean white halter top and tried to resume my position in the pocket of squashed cars, but it looked different. Hadn't there been _two _racecars on the sides? I felt the rusted metal. Suddenly it began to melt from beneath my touch.

"Oh!" I yelped, and jumped away. The dirty walls that my back rested on began melting too. I started to scream at the top of my lungs, but somehow it didn't sound loud enough. I heard my scream being returned to my ears from across the car park, but Bonesy wasn't there.

"Wot in the name of Satan—"Murdoc grouched. The red-headed bimbo from before peered out from behind him.

"Help! Help! It's melting!" I tried to explain, but the man appeared amused instead of still grouchy. He waved me off and shut the door behind him, cackling the entire time. He was _obviously _in cahoots with the prostitute. I shimmied my way past twisted metal and to the door decorated with graffiti, the one farthest from Murdoc's winne. It must've been 2D's room, since he was in it, listening to some tape.

The blue-haired singer turned around, and after one look at the bloody hand marks staining my white shirt, stood and frantically began asking what was wrong. I tried to explain, but a constant buzzing sound persisted in my ears. I stopped mid-sentence and grabbed the nearest trash can, which I proceeded to hurl into. My mouth felt as dry as the Sahara.

I looked back up, and after a few seconds, everything split in two. I clutched my head and ran from the poster-filled room. Murdoc stood leaning on his Winnebago, and the lady was busy adjusting a red high heeled shoe. A dollar bill fell from her dress, and she hastily shoved it back into her under shirt.

I stared at the flaming-haired woman, and her face seemed to change with every blink. Before I could approach her, my stomach retched, and I ran back into 2D's room. I hurled into his trash again and asked for water. It felt like cotton had been set on fire and forced into my mouth.

2D handed me a beer, then realized what it was, but not before I chugged it down. Everything hurt, and my head pounded. I observed the beer can closely. How shiny it was. I sat in the corner, beside a strange-looking boy that I hadn't noticed before, and quietly traced the can with excruciating concentration. It seemed to help me forget the throbbing of my skull and the desert in my mouth.

After a couple of minutes, 2D resumed his previous position on the bed with his tape pouring out random and strange yet melodic sounds. I listened to them and traced the can over and over until everything slowed to a stop.

With a jolt, I opened my eyes, and immediately was greeted by a familiar migraine and an aching body. 2D was lying sprawled on his bed snoring, and the tape was still playing in a loop. I stood and took it from his limp grasp to turn off.

I collected the beer can and closed the singer's door behind me. Crossing over towards the winne and passing it to enter the corridor was easy since the door was left open, meaning Murdoc wasn't inside. I headed straight down the hall to the lobby, where I took the lift to the kitchen. Inside I finally quenched the never-ending drought in my throat.

I passed through the glass door and onto the balcony. The smell was as strong as ever as I scanned the rubbish for the metal arm, but it was nowhere to be found. A chill ran down my spine and I felt eyes behind me. Before I could turn around, powerful hands shoved me over the edge and towards the rotting landfill below.


End file.
